Bloody Brilliance
by fangsandvervain
Summary: Draco Malfoy raised an eyebrow and offered a familiar smirk. "Something got a hold of your tongue, Granger? Or are you perhaps taken back by my looks? Wouldn't be the first time for either, would it?" Rated T just to be safe.
1. Ignorance

"I swear, Colin. If you were any denser, you'd be a concrete wall." Draco snatched the legal documents from his assistant's unstable grip, giving him the once-over as he did so. "Go take the rest of the day off. It seems your mind is elsewhere. You're no good to me if you're going to stand about all damn day, staring at the new intern's arse."

Colin Creevey. An impeccable prat, if there ever was one. His organizational habits seemed to be the only reason Draco kept him around lately. How he managed to get through the security details of the lobby on the first day of his interview at the Ministry's lawyer firm was beyond the wits of Draco. Where he lacked in every other area, he made up for in his promptness and organization. Clearly, both Draco and Colin were desperate, so out of the bottomless, black-as-coal depths of Draco's heart, Colin was hired. At least Colin had some notion of Draco's history from their school years, so he knew full well where he stood in the legal food chain and any others for that matter. A full five months passed and beside the obvious surface flaws, the Creevey chap had been sufficiently adequate, creating only a mere two minor mistakes since his employment; less than the average fools who Draco had been forced to fire in the past of his three years of being a lawyer for the Ministry.

Draco had taken the job for the Ministry right after graduating, showing far more promise as a civilian than his father ever could've conjured. His desire to follow down the path that his father paved for him never strode past the age of 17. Whatever embellishments or thoughts implanted into Draco's head were cancelled out by the simple fact that redemption could be obtained. Draco was not a monster, nor did he covet the concept of being one. Refusing to be an elitist Pureblood any longer, Draco ditched his usual title, feeling as if no one should owe him anything because of it. He wanted to stand on his own two feet and build a life for himself, one that didn't involve the Dark Arts, thank you very much.

Colin left his office, a disappointed aura encircling him. A slight flick of Draco's wrist and the door slammed behind him. Groaning as he did so, his nimble fingers loosened his tie with a fluid movement. The paperwork on his desk glared at him, just another stack of documents with empty signature blanks that needed his approval. Some of the folders wouldn't even get a second glance from Draco. He had little time, though the inanimate objects hardly understood a lick of it.

The folder that he'd received from Colin (or, snatched away from, however you saw it) fell to the generically printed carpet. His entire office reeked of bland decor, from the cheery, broomstick wall decals to the rough black carpet that had probably resided in the same office for a decade and a half. Draco didn't have to mechanically turn his head to know that the papers were spilled across the floor. They mocked him in his misery. What loyal company they kept.

After four minutes of deciding that he'd look over the papers and then call it a day, Draco rose from his slumped position and knelt down to collect the disarray of papers. Some crumpled beneath his knees, some lay perfectly still. Exasperated, he finally came to the last document. New case documents, or so it appeared. His grey eyes scanned the lines of print until they reached the bottom. From what he gathered, he would be defending a sorry low-life who claimed that he didn't commit the two murders that he was accused of. The man's background check revealed that he'd had a violent history and this didn't make matters any better. The criminal was forcing Draco to fight a losing battle. Spectacular.

Yawning widely, Draco tossed the folder on the desk, refusing to chain himself to any more work over the weekend. Without a doubt, Colin had more than likely already set up a meeting with the bloke, so he would need to center all of his concentration into deciding whether or not this case was a lost cause.

Any recollection as to how he ended up walking the windy streets was lost; Draco could barely keep his head on straight. He'd had no contact with anyone in ages - save for Colin who hardly knew left from right - and it was beginning to affect his behavior. The personality of a newly-claimed insomniac wasn't the bubbliest or most pleasant, even Draco knew.

He was the epitome of isolation.

---

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, a vague feeling crawling up her spine that someone was smacking her senseless with a thick Muggle telephone book. It wouldn't be the first time today that a headache made its appearance.

Hermione's fingers trailed up to her throbbing temples, applying the lightest of pressure and massaging tight circles. Alleviation was what she aimed for, but hardly what she received. Oh, the joy of office work and its everlasting _rewards_.

She didn't necessarily hate her job, no. Quite plainly, she adored it. It was the career she chose for herself and one that would last throughout her future and until she retired, but it sucked the life from her. Hermione secretly worked for the Ministry, regulating the legal system, or at least what was left of it after the final war. The Ministry seemed to think that with Hermione Granger under their belt, the chances of having another uprising of the Dark Arts were quite minimal, almost none. This sort of deal almost dared the Wizarding World to have another go at the Dark Arts. With Hermione working for them for almost three years, the deal had worked beautifully. A small rebellion of dark wizards attempted to corrupt the Ministry half a year ago, for example. Not only did Hermione uncover enough evidence to put them away for a life in Azkaban, the evidence struck the judges so far to their very core that executions were scheduled immediately for the following month. No other 'rebellions' had ensued. It seemed that no one cared to mess with the Ministry's hidden weapon.

The Ministry had her relocated to a normal law firm not far from Diagon Alley, beating any suspicions that Hermione was associated with them at all. Any record of Hermione's opinion of the Ministry was that it was corrupted and highly bribable. Anything and everything could go wrong in that building. Though, her true opinion was that after the war, their government was on the brink of collapsing. More chaos would've come of it than the outbreak of the actual war against Voldemort. Hermione figured that what was once unstable could grow another backbone, given the help. She hadn't been proven false since. The government confirmed to be stronger than ever, after much rebuilding.

A few of Hermione's former classmates - much to her delight - were also fixated on insuring confidence once again for the people of the Wizarding World, only they chose to do so publicly. Draco Malfoy, surprisingly enough, managed to round up over 35 of the so-called 'Death Eaters' who claimed to still survive in the dark corners of London. Most of whom were either residing in a cell in Azkaban or had been dealt with by execution methods. Her ill-will toward him evaporated over the years, even settling to a more respected manner. Hermione would never audibly admit this to Draco himself, but he had enough sense to recognize that they were younger and foolish back when he let his blood status step in the way of the possibility of a friendship. Now they even exchanged a few words during conferences, but hardly enough to categorize their relationship, if you could even name theirs as such. They were more similar to acquaintances, if you were to be specific.

In a misty daze, Hermione walked past her secretary, a faithful, naive little thing, her arms full of papers and folders galore. Thank Merlin for the weekend.

The _click-clack_ of her heels were the only, solitary reminder that she remained in reality. The cobblestones of the street appeared to pity her, at least. As if she desired it.

A reasonably swift gust of wind, summoned from the south-of-nowhere blew the loose papers from the top folder whose cover swayed, an open invitation for the legal documents to escape. The closest sheet landed with the grace of an airplane, at the very least 15 feet in front of her. How lovely.

Within the moments following that it took for Hermione to collect her thoughts and the few papers in front of her that she was allowed, a gracious and rather pale hand extended toward her out of thin air, clutching the papers that had fallen from her reach. Without bothering to make eye contact before she spoke, Hermione started in on her appreciateness.

"Er, thanks. I'm sorry. It seems the wind decided to-" She stopped, dead in her tracks, a deer frozen in the glare of headlights.

Draco Malfoy raised an eyebrow and offered a familiar smirk. "Something got a hold of your tongue, Granger? Or are you perhaps taken back by my looks? Wouldn't be the first time for either, now would it?"

---

_A/N; I'm quite excited about this particular story, though not by the first chapter. I realize that it's a slow start, but it'll pick up in the next chapter and continue to in future ones. Before I update again and actually get the ball rolling, I'd appreciate 10 reviews. I don't mind criticism at all, and if you have any ideas, throw them out there. You'll be credited in the next chapter if I use them. As for now, cheers and beers. xx_


	2. Old Habits Never Die

_What the hell?_

Maybe it was the familarity of the arrogance that Draco still held, blantantly so, or that Hermione was simply still in a staggering daze from a combined weight of both the world and the stack of hefty paperwork combined. Maybe it the mere fact that the fatigue of the present week hadn't yet worn off. Or could it be that the dark, bruised circles that lay beneath the lids of Draco's eyes made the time of the night seem everlasting? Any of these could've been compensation for the realization that struck Hermione like a wicked curse. The same Draco, the same Slytherin mind games; they all appeared to remain standing past the years of their adolescence. A shame if there ever was one.

It was quite clear - crystal, even - that no lapse of time would change Draco. No such luck could be achieved. Sure, he'd given up the life that his father meticulously planned down to the Dark Mark that his forearm bore. It was quite easy to talk when there wasn't a required action to prove anything. A few more remarks bounced off the sidewalks, ping-pong balls in the whole affair, proving there was nothing spectacular about his words. They were delicate fooling devices. When used on the correct people in the correct situations, anything could go your way. Hell, Draco Malfoy was now a _changed man!_ What an oxymoron.

Regaining whatever composure remained loyal during Draco's following snide attempts at verbal victory, Hermione cleared her throat, ready to retaliate.

"Tell me, Malfoy. Do you enjoy lying through your teeth? Here I was, convinced that any and all ill-will that lay between us during our school years had evaporated. It's nice to see that you're an honest man." Hermione scoffed, grabbing the folder that he'd picked up and attempting to pry it from his fingers. He refused to release it. She sighed, exasperated. "Oh, I see. Dishonesty _and_ immaturity. What grand characteristics of a revered, so-called lawyer."

"Revered? Ah, so you fancy me as well as the others? Nice to know, Granger. Maybe I'll hold that against you in the future."

A faint glint in his eye made her eyes roll, as if on cue. It seemed to be the most happy he looked in weeks, according to those rough circles under his gaze. Right, like his 'charm' would do it's work on Hermione Granger of all people. She'd seen clients like this before. The guilty ones at least. They were all the same - groveling for mercy or playing the quick-draw card of allure and bribery. Buying into a foul, cheap deal such as that would destroy everything she'd built for herself. There would be virtually nothing left except for the straight-to-hell ashes that remained only to taunt her of what she had. What was more, the clients thought they would get away with it. Without much of a sales-pitch to top it off! Just a quick flash of an enticing yet hefty sack of Galleons thrown on her desk. No explanation, no bargaining. If Hermione accepted it, that was that and the client would be expecting for all of his legal worries to transform into smoke. All because of Hermione's word, tagging along with her client's. This was proof enough that they'd gotten away with such horrendous deeds in the past, involving bribery.

"You'd think that by now, Malfoy, your assistant would've called the interior decorators to expand your office. I hardly think there's room in your tiny office for a big head such as yours. Though I daresay that might cause an uproar down at the bank...funding problems and such..."

He purely chuckled, tugging the folder back until Hermione had no physical choice but to let go. This infuriated her beyond the extent of her patience. Draco's next utterance was the only barrier cutting her short from whipping her into a verbal frenzy.

"Granger, I'm glad we're at least on the same page. You can't honestly tell me that we were better off by having civil little chat, now can you? This is far too entertaining, don't you agree?" The smirk weighed his lips down, reviving the witty insults for round two.

Hermione's mouth stretched open to spit out another phrase of banter, yet he unknowingly put a halt to it. Did she enjoy their bitter arguments? It was a sense of normality for her, just like brushing her teeth or signing paperwork. Anything besides just that would be odd and so completely...illusory in terms for them. This was a routine of sorts. One that they had been obediently following for ages, save for the few days that they were in reach of at least a form of friendship. Yet those days they were simply civil to each other, just like Draco said. That hardly meant that they were to be going out for firewhiskey or chatting about how lovely the snow was. By no means did that create a friendship. Hermione just mistakenly allowed herself to be enveloped in illusions, seeing as she could never be so daft at work. She was drifting away from Harry and Ron now that they had relationships and prospering careers as well as she did. The most time that their jobs allowed them to be seen together was maybe twice or threefold per month. Maybe the watered-down trio had inspired a craving for friendship in Hermione. Yes, that was the ticket.

"I think..." She chose her vocabulary carefully, not desiring to boost Draco's confidence any more that humanly possible. "...perhaps I wanted a change. Our houses defined our relationship since the day we met and such great minds should be put to good use instead of fighting all the damn time."

"Granger, you're implanting this thought in your head that I might actually have the will to be _nice_." At this, he made obnoxious gagging noises that acquired another accompaniment of Hermione rolling her chocolate eyes.

"Everyone has the will to be something other than plainly rude, Draco. Even people that have the accesory of a power-hungry ego such as yours. Now please, don't let it explode all over my paperwork." Hermione successfully snatched the manila folder back, a quick rousing of her reflexes were internally congratulated. This was complimented by a sneer from Draco's complexion.

"You forget that I'm a Malfoy, Granger. It clearly isn't in our nature to be tea and daisies with our peers."

"Funny, seeing as you've spent the last three years diligently attempting to provide compensation for that simple fact. You forget that I, plus your co-workers, know how your desires have changed."

Hermione swept past him, giving him the cold-shoulder. A bewildered Malfoy stood alone, listening to the footsteps behind him fade and the _pitter-patter_ of raindrops as they began to land on his shoes.

* * *

_A/N; I particularly loved writing this chapter. It entertained me to no end. Though, on the other hand, I'm disappointed to see the amount of reviews for this story. I expected more (at least, I think was my limit) and I believe I obtained a total of 3. I do, however, appreciate the ones who reviewed and the great amount of people who favorited/subscribed for an author alert/story alert. I had no choice but to update. I apparently live to please. Yet, I do want more reviews this time around. It isn't hard, really. I'm not looking for huge paragraphs, just a little constructive criticism or a 'good job'. I would like to hear some ideas as well. I promise to update soon. Until then, cheers and beers. xx_


	3. Caught

City-wide morning rush. Was an explanation necessary?

The crowd was the same sea of faceless business-people. The mob of late, frazzled workers usually juggled coffee, papers, other office stationary of some kind. The sad thing was, seven times out of ten, at least one of these objects fell from their reach, either accidently or out of frustrated rage. Then there were the early, over-achievers. Everyone despised these people, relaxing on a park bench reading the daily post with time to waste. A nonchalant glance at their watches or a casual wave at the passing pedestrians who were as equally at ease with their time management. To the average, untrained eye, they were wise employees, ones to admire during the hassle of morning chaos.

Shocked at the utter frivolity of the outcome, Hermione found herself straying from the group of overachievers. She was, for once, running low on time. What was once a cheerful morning, ready to procrastinate until the time came that she was required to present herself at work, quickly became a chaotic treasure hunt for her lost folder on the new case. She'd searched high and low for the damned folder, finally settling on requesting more copies from her assistant once she arrived at work in one piece.

Her secretary appeared to be bewildered at the sight of Hermione's tardiness. Never before had this been an occurence. Even now it was a minor offense, but Hermione lived to be a perfectionist, did she not?

Wordlessly, Hermione summoned Charlotte, the nervous wreck that she'd hired so long ago, into her office. She looked as if she was absolutely petrified at the sight of Hermione, perhaps too aware of her power as an attorney.

"Charlotte, I'm going to need a few extra copies of the new casework. I seemed to have misplaced the folder."

"W-We don't have any more copies on file, Ms. G-Granger."

Hermione ignored her secretary's incompetent verbalization. She quirked an eyebrow, her throat growing thick. "I'm sure you can contact someone and produce a few extras, can't you?"

"They didn't leave any s-source of contact. I'm not s-sure if..." The rest of Charlotte's excuse was lost. Hermione remembered exactly where her paperwork had gone, and at this realization, she groaned internally.

"Never mind. I think I have a faint notion of which dunderhead to contact. That's all, Charlotte." Charlotte darted from the room, noticeably relieved that she wouldn't have to face Hermione any longer. Three years under Hermione's management and you'd think the poor girl would've grown a backbone.

Before her quill was even submerged in black ink, Hermione had the words of her note on her tongue. She attempted to be civil about the matter, yet a few insults crept to the front of her mind. After several mistakes and a few re-writes, she settled on a short-to-the-point note for Draco.

_Draco,_

_It seems that you have my paperwork for my current case. I've tried obtaining new copies, yet my secretary tells me that the copies you must've accidently taken with you last night are the only ones available. If you could send the folder to my office, I'd greatly appreciate it._

_Hermione_

Simple enough that it would get the job done. Hermione was relying on this so that she could get the casework returned to the Ministry, which was of extreme importance. Another thought occured to her and it was a common mistake that could've driven her to tear her hair from its roots. What if Draco read the paperwork, mistaking it for his own? Her entire cover would be blown once he realized that she was the one working as the Ministry's 'secret weapon' all these years. He'd realize that she was the real reason why the wizarding government hadn't been overthrown since the war. Of course, Hermione couldn't very well rely on Draco to keep a secret. She couldn't even trust to know what his reaction would be, let alone whether or not he would keep his mouth shut. All of her years of putting away thriving criminals would be demolished, especially since they'd find out that Hermione was a rat. They'd know exactly who to target and threaten, which would leave Hermione no choice but to quit her job. Any unsafe enviroment was not one that Hermione desired to work in, especially with death threats hanging over her head every single hour of the day.

She sent the note off without a second thought, the owl squawking obnoxiously as she let it fly and escape from her office window. That was that, and there was nothing more she could do. Until Draco replied to her owl or sent the folder to its rightful owner, all Hermione was allowed was the prospect of waiting.

* * *

The dark circles - nearly black now - still lay beneath Draco's tired eyes. Another sleepless night. The soaked state of his clothing from the night prior had simply added to the unappealing side of sleep. He almost felt disgusted with himself - almost being the key word. He'd forgotten how entirely exhausting it was to stand and have a row with Granger all night. It had been a breeze back in his school years, back when he was still naive and reveling in the upper hand that his last name had dealt him. Now it nearly useless and he'd spent a good hour wondering why he'd stooped so low as to bringing out the worst in Hermione. She'd been mature enough to temporarily forget their past, why couldn't Draco have put it behind them, if only for a good ten minutes?

Colin's swift knock and entry awoke Draco from his dream-like state. It seemed that Colin had been interrupting a lot lately. "What _is_ it, Colin?"

"An owl just arrived addressed to you. From the looks of it, it's from Hermione Granger." He handed a neatly folded scrap of parchment to Draco, looking embarassed.

"Tell me, Colin, do you fancy reading all of my mail? Or are you such a prat that you can't physically help but nosing your way into my business? Honestly, remind me why I hired you, Creevey. I'd hate to set up another round of interviews in search of another secretary."

Blushing the deepest of crimson, Colin left without so much as an apolegetic glance in his employer's direction. Draco unfolded the note, reading the scrawled writing and quirking an eyebrow. Hadn't he given back the folder? He was positive that he had. It was possible that he hadn't, and also possible that it hadn't been the correct folder. His arm extended to his briefcase under the desk, blindly searching for the manila folder. Draco hardly used folders, just labeled tab dividers that sufficed nicely. His fingers stumbled upon a thick, unknown folder and he withdrew it. Sure enough, it was Hermione's, distinguishable by the handwritten note stacked on top of the casework inside. His eyes shouldn't have invaded over the written lines, but they betrayed him and did as they pleased. Draco scolded himself for not practicing what he preached when it came to invading someone else's privacy.

_Hermione!_

_Another case and I'm expecting successful results! I know how well you've done the past three years and I'm hoping we can keep up the charade and fool the wizarding public again. As usual, I'm sure they won't suspect little old Hermione Granger. When you read the casework, you'll see that you'll be assisting Draco Malfoy in defending the accused. All I have to say on the matter is that you keep Draco in the shadows about our deal. I doubt it'll be an important detail, anyway. Just tell him that you've been called upon by the Ministry for some requested legal counsel and you decided that a little contact with the Ministry couldn't do any harm. He won't think a thing of it, especially that you've been secretly restoring the government for the last three years! I'm awaiting your approval._

_Minister of Magic_

Draco was shell-shocked, to say the very least. Played a fool by Hermione Granger, the star student of Hogwarts. He couldn't believe his eyes. In any case, he could play this game as well as Granger could. He took out a piece of parchment, a quill, and a corked jar of ink with one fluid motion. His reply was quick, no proofreading involved.

_Granger,_

_Meet me in the park by your apartment building. I do, indeed, have your folder and I'll bring it along tonight, 7 o'clock sharp. _

_Draco_

He sent it along with one of the office owls and sat motionless in his chair, unbelieving of the events that just occured. Draco certainly didn't expect Hermione to spill her guts to him of all people, but damn, the girl had the entire Wizarding World fooled! How had she managed three years of secrecy? That was virtually impossible in the world of law and crime. Even with magic involved, you could only shelter the truth for so long before you had the Daily Prophet banging at your door. Before you knew it, your mugshot was on the front page and the truth was out, whether or not you were ready or prepared.

Within an hour, it was already nearing 7 o'clock. Granger hadn't replied, so Draco took it to meaning that she would be attending. Colin had been dismissed early, he claimed to be suffering from a rash somewhere around his bum. Draco had given him permission without a second thought, grimacing when Colin went into specific detail about his ailment. The office was empty except for Draco who rode the elevator down to the lobby. He then apparated to the park where they would be meeting, unsurprised to find that Hermione was already waiting.

Draco's strides toward her held a sort of superiority. He had the upper hand now.

"Good, I'm glad you arrived on time, Granger."

"The paperwork is important. I don't procrastinate when it comes to legal documents, Draco."

Brandishing the folder from behind his back, Draco extended it toward her politely with no comment. As her hand gripped it, he released it, no complaint.

"No insult, Malfoy? Are you running a fever as well?"

Draco merely smirked, a playful glint in his grey eyes. "Maybe we can continue this day-old banter after you explain yourself. Were you at all planning on telling me that you were working for the Ministry all these years?" He paused, gauging her reaction, which in turn, was a look of horror. He resumed his flowing stride. "By the look of things, you obviously weren't. I'm not daft, Granger. Lying was my faithful friend back at school. I recognize him when I see him. It's quite plain you two have become the best of mates."

* * *

_A/N; Here's your update! I'm pretty pleased with myself for taking the time to write this instead of putting it off. I thank all of you for favoriting me and this story and adding it to your alert list. I also greatly appreciate the reviews! I tried to act on your advice and criticism and make this chapter to be the best yet. I also forgot to add a disclaimer to the last two chapters. I, GorgeouslyXHomicidal, do not own the rights of Harry Potter and am in no way affiliated with JK Rowling and/or any of the characters of the Harry Potter Saga. These characters are purely fictional and should be treated as so. Review! Cheers and beers, xx._


	4. At Wit's End

Playfully tugging at her coat, an impatient, child-like nuisance, the wind swirled around her waist, begging for a retort. _Go on, answer Draco. Tell the truth, you miserable fraud. Not so witty now, eh?_

The hushed taunts from her inanimate enemy betrayed her. The whispers of the wind were correct. There would be no more concealing now that Draco was able to run wickedly with her spotaneously-combustible secret. It was only right that she admit to the crimes, rather than supply the opposing esteemed attorney with another motive to search for more guilty clues. Evidentiary support didn't often lie.

"Don't think you can stand there and think of excuses. I've got substantial common sense, despite what you seem to think."

Hermione hadn't the slightest notion of what verbal retaliation would slip from her lips. Simply put, she mumbled a response, defeated without a battle. "How did you come about this, Draco?"

He reveled in the immediate glory of seeing Hermione Granger crack like a hardboiled egg. For the first time in ages, she fell from the weight of weakness. It was a pleasant sight, yet bittersweet as well. Her castle was crumbling, yet he randomly obtained the strongest of urges to begin rebuilding the faltering structure.

"Oh, but didn't you see the note from the Minister _himself _attached to your new file documents? He obviously wanted to re-establish some ground rules. The bloke failed to realize that, if dropped into the wrong hands, it would blow your reputation right out from under you."

Composure and pity. The two things she desired at that exact moment. An ounce of either would've sufficed.

"I was offered a private job by the Minister, a permanent career. Putting away the remaining loyals of Voldemort was a job needed to be done. Can't you understand?"

"Without a shadow of a doubt, Granger. You forget so easily that my father was one of the most feared, next to Voldemort himself. Yet the privacy and anonymity of your little deal suggests that something was kept under wraps other than your identity."

Her words halted. The string of potential insults and explanations had frayed, slowly unravelling. Crashing, disorienting waves of guilt mingled with dizziness flooded her safe-haven. Hermione took refuge on a bench, chasing after her dispersed thoughts. Draco accompanied her, only out of curiousity.

"He wanted to reconstruct some familiarity for everyone. Their lives had been torn apart. A door was still left open when the surviving Death Eaters realized that the stability hadn't changed. It was still weak beyond control. The Minister thought that if something were to hit the remaining ones hard enough, especially with a force that seemed to condense from thin air, they'd die out. So far, the plan has worked. The secrecy was more for my benefit; having no danger or trouble lurking for me has made it exceptionally easy to do my job. If my name hadn't been withheld, they'd pin-point the source of their downfall. They'd have killed me without a moment's thought. Then, inevitably, a chaotic recession back to the darkest days of the Wizarding World." Hermione stared blankly at her shoes. The admittance had seemed rehearsed yet she'd never uttered a word of this to any soul. The last addition was a whisper, almost carried off and kidnapped by the restless wind. "I was offered a job, one that was long overdue. I couldn't let the world suffer. You have to understand at least that much."

Lost in the deepest cave of thought, Draco nearly felt a pang of shame. She had done it for the good of the wizards and witches whose lives were ripped and slaughtered by the clever evil that had once dominated. All along, he'd thought it was plainly because she was a coward, a purely selfish vial of venom that merely wanted the satisfaction of being the futuristic Golden Trio hero of all time. A press junkie that would reveal her secret years later after securing a mind-blowing number of cases and wins against the creeping malevolence. He knew from her fatigued reasoning and deliverance that it was the sheer truth. No longer would he question that.

"I...I hadn't a clue, Granger. I realize the timing of this response is maddeningly inappropriate, yet I'd rather it not remain unsaid. I'm sorry. If it's any consolation, I won't speak of this."

His words shocked her, though it was a dull sensation compared to the blow that Draco struck her with upon their meeting tonight. Nonetheless, appreciation and relief reeled in the frenzy of a storm that her mind had conjured. Still, Hermione couldn't see a rhyme or reason as to why he reacted so completely out of his nature.

"Not that I don't believe you, but may I ask why you've so easily accepted my explanation? I just...I dunno. It's very unlike you." Her questioning tone finished lamely. Her questioning look, however, remained stable. Another surprise followed his strange acceptance. Thin pieces of his platinum locks brushed Draco's forehead, his grey eyes gazing down toward Hermione's hands rested in her lap.

"When I realized that my father was a pure embodiment of everything I no longer wanted to be, I knew what I finally had the desire to do. I wanted - no, needed - to use what I learned all those years against my father and Voldemort. I needed to have it all gone. So I became an attorney, a complete opposite of my father. When I finally decided that I'd remove the title of 'Pureblood' from my vocabulary, people were suspicious. They misread my desires and intentions. No one wanted to believe me. So I refuse to do the same toward you, no matter our past differences."

A lighter breeze commenced, almost recognizing the weight lifted off their relationship. At least they'd come to an impasse of sorts. Nothing permanent, but it was a clear, refreshing started compared to the blind hatred. It was, after all, the most Draco had ever spoken to her without a witty, crude insult jumbled in. A nice progression, if you asked Hermione.

"I believed you." Hermione muttered, truth staining her words like a wine glass upturned on a white tablecloth. The phrase was probably the most sincere thing she'd said in weeks. "I knew you'd worked so hard to impress your father when you were younger. Now, seeing you finally building something for yourself without the threat of your last name bearing down on you, it was brave of you. You were ashamed of your past."

Draco gave a genuine but brief smile before standing up from the bench. A long breath escaped him, turning to smoke in the chilled night air.

"I _am_ ashamed of my past, Hermione. You haven't the faintest idea."

This go-round, he was the one walking away, disappearing slowly with his shadow following loyally.

* * *

Draco was still puzzled. Why had he simply up and forgiven Hermione Granger of all people? Maybe it was the realization that she had been right. It hadn't been her fault, she'd just gone about the decision in the wrong context of things. She'd created suspicion around her choice by refusing to give her identity, but all the same, it had been wise. He knew the methods of Death Eaters far too well. The brand of a serpent on his wrist spoke volumes.

Insomnia was a quaint little device. It allowed him to think about things that he wouldn't normally permit himself to think about during the day at work and gave him plenty of chances to catch up on his paperwork. However, he needed the sleep. Now that he'd be having Hermione in his near-constant company due to the case, Draco would need to procure a good couple hours of rest to keep up with her. It certainly wouldn't hurt. He'd have time to think about the entirety of the situation tomorrow.

He loosened the noose that was his black tie and fell onto his bed, fully clothed. His slumber was long overdue.

* * *

A cloaked figure stalked the deserted, damp alleyways, chuckling madly to himself. He twirled his wand in his fingers, a grin stretching from ear to ear above his chin stubble. The clacking of his shoes alarmed the figure he was heading toward, also clad in a dark, billowy cloak. Rats squeaked and scampered off at the sight of the pair.

"It used to be, 'once a Malfoy, always a Malfoy'. Draco seemed to break the mold of that one, didn't he?" The cloaked man came to halt as he reached the other man. The man opposite from him cocked an eyebrow, seemingly bored.

"Just get to the point. Did you find out what he's planning to do with the case against Alec? We need some idea of what we're getting ourselves into."

The grin stretched further across his scabbed lips, bearing a set of unusually sharp teeth. "I've done one better, Hector. What would you say if I were to tell you that Hermione Granger is the one that's been putting us out like lights for the past couple of years?"

Hector froze, looking as if he were encased in ice. "Hermione Granger. The Mudblood filth? She's been helping the Ministry?"

"Rebuilding it single-handedly is more like it. I haven't seen that bloke do piss for the Ministry since he started there. He did make our job that much easier, I will say that." Another maniacal chuckle.

"Oliver, I believe you just earned yourself a raise." Hector flicked his wand, producing a bag of Galleons that hovered in front of his employee's very greedy eyes. Oliver snatched it, giddy to find that it was a reasonably heavy pouch.

"I knew you'd be pleased. Thank you!"

"Don't thank me quite yet. You still need to live up to your side of the deal, even though a new character's been added to our plan." Hector paused, his eyes boring into Oliver's. "Do as I say or it'll be your filthy, unshaven neck, do you hear me? We need Draco and that Mudblood to play the game our way."

* * *

_A/N; Don't yell at me for my not-so-timely updating. I've been meaning to for weeks, honestly. I should be posting chapters more regularly now, whenever I find time to. Anywhoozle, here's chapter 4 and I hope you enjoy it just as much as I enjoyed writing it. Check chapter 3 for the disclaimer because I'm too tired to type it all out again. Once again, thanks to my reviewers and subscribers! Oh, and just so you weren't confused, my penname used to be GorgeouslyXHomicidal. After seeing Alice in Wonderland, I decided to switch things up a notch. Cheers and beers, xx._


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